


Body Language

by EquinoxSolstice



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Oral Fixation, Teasing, Voyeur!Clint, Voyeurism, hints of Steve/Clint and Tony/Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EquinoxSolstice/pseuds/EquinoxSolstice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just Clint Barton’s luck, who had the sharpest eyes on the team, that he managed to sit in between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in an Avengers meeting. The sexual tension was suffocating, but then again, he was having too much fun trying to figure out the quiet, not-at-all-subtle, innocent-but-not-really flirtation between Captain America and Iron Man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Language

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Superhusbands oneshot, featuring Clint because he is my favorite Movie!Avenger. I've honestly never written in this fandom before, so excuse and tell me honestly if I have the voice right, especially for Clint since I'm not that all familiar with his comic incarnation. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd, and possibly out-of-character, but I hope you'll be able to enjoy! Rated Mature because of some detailed descriptions of oral fixation.

For the fifth time in the past hour, Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, aka the handsome, drop dead gorgeous marksman of the Earth’s mightiest Heroes, The Avengers,  was resisting the urge to slam his head on the table repeatedly. He wasn’t particularly masochistic (in the right circumstances he _might_ make exceptions) and he wasn’t an idiot either (despite Stark’s insinuations that he was, apparently, a birdbrain), but this time around he really, _really_ wanted some cerebral recalibration, pronto.

The reason?

He supposed that he had it coming, really. He was late to the call of “Avengers, assemble!” that morning, and now he was paying the price by choking on some hot, thick, heavy, unresolved sexual tension. The moment he arrived at the conference floor in the Tower he found that everybody else had already settled down and was waiting for him, and the only place left for him to sit was the chair in between where the said hot, thick, heavy, UST was emanating from. Clint flinched when Natasha gave him a look of sort-of pity, it was really _that bad_.

“If you would sit down Hawkeye, so we can finish and be out of each other’s hair faster.” Fury said pointedly, and Clint almost squeaked. He was in between a rock and a hard place, and he would rather take Fury’s laser eye (he was _sure_ that that was under that patch) than sit through the meeting in _that_ atmosphere. But he wasn’t suicidal. And so with great and extreme reluctance did he sit down, and the meeting immediately went underway.

Just minutes later he was ready to beg for someone to let him out of there. He couldn’t take it anymore, the tension was just so palpable that he was nearly sweating with it, and gave Tony Stark a glare when he wasn’t looking. This was his fault in the first place, where was that damned Stark charm he was so proud of and why didn’t he use it now?

Because right now, right at this very moment, he could practically see the eyesex Iron Man was giving Captain America. And the said Cap was sitting on his other side.

 _Goddamnit_. 

And he actually didn’t know what was worse, seeing it happening right in front of him, or that he could _actually decipher every gesture they made towards each other_. It was one of the downsides of being a superspyagent, being able to recognize different types of body language, and given that he had such good eyes, it was obvious that he was awesome at it. It helped a lot in undercover work and missions in general, but it was a pain at times.

Like right about now.

It wasn’t Clint’s fault that he was so smart he could accurately guess the meaning behind every seemingly quiet, not-at-all-subtle, innocent-but-not-really gesture that Iron Man and Captain America sent to each other. It made him feel like a voyeur, because much as he loved his teammates, really did, he _didn’t_ want to know what they did in their spare time. Ever.

...

Okay, maybe he did, but this time around it was just plain frustrating. Anyone with eyes could see that the Mom and Dad of the Avengers were actually mooning for each other, they were just plain stubborn to actually _do_ something about it. Even Stark, for all of his bragging and playboy reputation, was tiptoeing around the good, kind Cap when it was clear (at least to him) that it was the last thing Steve wanted him to do. Among other things.

But this time around, it seemed that the meeting was boring enough to tears and Stark was on a mischievous streak today, because he looked at Steve and winked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. _Let’s get out of here and fondue._ On other guys it might’ve looked just plain idiotic, Clint observed, cocking his head in thought, but on Tony Stark it seemed almost natural. Showed how much of a pervert he really was. Clint snorted, and tried to cover it up with a cough. He looked back, trying to see Steve’s reaction.

And as expected, Steve was blushing. Slight pink tinge, almost unnoticeable, but it was there. But he frowned slightly, tapping his pen on the papers in front of him. _Pay attention to the meeting, this is important_ , the message was sent clearly enough for the both of them.

Clint frowned. Uptight Captain, Steve could really be a stick in the mud at times, he supposed that it was the 40’s morality and all. But Tony had been doing a pretty good job of corrupting him lately, it just took a little more push to have them making out on the conference table. And it looked like Tony agreed with him, because his expression changed into something exasperating, handsome and actually dangerous, all at the same time. Clearly, he was taking this as a direct challenge, and honestly, Clint was actually enjoying himself right now, though he privately agreed to Tony’s fondue idea. Might be good for the both of them to release some of that high-strung tension.

Bring it on.

Clint was still amused, watching Tony smirk wickedly, lowering his eyelids and staring at Steve with a coy, come-hither expression. Oooh, Stark was good at the seduction thing, Clint had to admit grudgingly. Years of practice would do that to a guy. Of course Iron Man wouldn’t give up a fight, he was goddamn Tony Stark, he did what he wanted and got it if he worked hard for it, and now he was–

Loosening the tie of his suit slowly and snapping the top button off, showing some skin like a small striptease. Well, god _damn_ , Tony did have nice skin. And neck. And chest. And fingers. Hell, everything about the billionaire just screamed ‘Take me now, Steve,’ with a large, invisible neon sign on his forehead, and if Stark was actually his type, Clint might’ve considered the proposition. The archer immediately snapped his head back, there was no way Steve would remain immobile after that display, Clint was already getting a little hot and bothered himself.

Steve was completely flustered now, the tips of his ears were bright red. Clint found it somewhat adorable actually; the soldier looked like a guy meeting his first crush face-to-face. Or a puppy that was praised by its owner. Either way, it was flipping adorable, a description one wouldn’t usually use for a six foot tall solid mass of muscle. But Steve had a will of steel, and was not about to give up easily, with a quick shake of his head and deliberately looking away. It was possibly a variation of _No, Tony no, what are you doing, you’re acting weird,_ with come brain shortening and incoherent, internal babblings thrown in between any comfortable pair of words. Clint almost felt sorry for him; Tony just hit a one-two combo and the poor guy wasn’t ready for it at all.

But then he was painfully reminded that he was half-dying due to continued exposure to UST. The archer vindictively decided to save his sympathy for the moment.

Stark was completely unfazed with the heated rebuff. If anything, he looked more determined than ever now to flirt and capture Steve’s attention again, this time completely. Things were getting more interesting now, and Clint found himself shifting in his seat, trying to get a better view of this little war of wills. This was better than listening on the plans, this was pure entertainment gold and he intended to see it through the end. Clint glanced back at Tony, wondering what he was going to do now. Tony wasn’t going to take this lying down, and if Clint was right, if Steve didn’t show any reaction to the first, then it was time to pull out the big guns.

The big gun was actually a fountain pen. Black, silver, sleek and shiny. Stark Industries, naturally. (Figures Stark would make his own, ridiculously expensive fountain pen just for doodling page corners in.) Clint watched with carefully concealed interest as Tony took the pen and scribbled something on the pages in front of him, catching Steve’s attention and making him look at their direction. Tony capped the pen again, placing the blunt tip lightly on his chin, dragging it slowly upwards until it reached the bottom of his lip, his full, pouting lip. Clint almost shuddered out a breath. The anticipation was killing him.

Tony’s mouth curled up sideways, and his lips parted, taking the tip of the pen and suckling on it softly. Jesus _Christ_ , Steve wasn’t the only one watching the other man right now, Clint was starting to get just the tiniest bit uncomfortable, because _shit_ , Tony Stark’s mouth was _talented_ , and Clint had to stop the gasp that almost escaped his own throat. Clint continued to watch in rapt fascination as the billionaire swallowed about half of the cap in, throat bobbing as he did so, hollowed his cheeks and pulled it out gradually, now shinier and slicker in the overhead lights. His tongue poked out and gave a teasing lick at the blunted head, the flat of it massaging the length of the cap, along its shirt hook. Forget the Iron suit, Tony Stark’s mouth was a weapon of mass destruction on its own even when it wasn’t even talking. _Especially_ when it wasn’t talking.

Tony played with his pen for a few more minutes, nibbling at the side, nipping at the edges, all done in a slow, maddening, meticulous way. Heck, Clint didn’t even like Stark that way and he was already affected more than he should be, those rumours were _definitely_ for the right reasons. The way his mouth did things was _illegal_ , should be criminal assault, this was outright molestation of inanimate objects. And if he was already _this_ bothered, what effect would it have on Steve? Clint wanted to look back but he didn’t want to miss the free show, now he suddenly had this urge to become a Stark fountain pen.

And when Tony decided he finally had enough of teasing the blond, he removed the pen from his lips with a small pop, arching his neck and giving out a tiny, almost breathless gasp of air. Oh god, Clint suddenly wanted to stand up and clap loudly because that was, pardon his bad French, the most magnificent  performance he had seen in a while. And heck, he wouldn’t even mind having a few rounds with Stark if that demonstration was anything to go by, but he didn’t poach on other people’s territory, so he kept his thoughts to himself. So far nobody had really noticed Tony laving his attention on his pen, even if they did it was something completely normal for Stark to chew on something during meetings like these. The rest were still continuing to listen, and it’s a damned shame because they missed a show of a lifetime. Clint wondered now, if Tony's performance managed to draw such a reaction from him, who knew what it had caused to Steve?

Clint gave a quick, discreet glance back, not wanting to miss the, pun completely intended, entire climax of this little tiff. And oh _boy_ , did the wholesome Captain look as if he was in need of a bathroom break, eyes about to bulge out from their sockets, his skin now about the same colour of a fire engine truck. Steve didn’t even realize that he was sitting up in his chair, tight as a whipcord, and had snapped his own pen in half already, Clint thought with some amused glee, managing not to cackle out loud. The ink was dripping from his fingers and into his lap and – Clint wasn’t able to keep back the low whistle, visibly impressed.  

It looked like the Cap was hiding a... big package down there, and it was very happy with the performance. Clint snickered to himself. Even someone as resilient as Captain America wouldn’t be able to keep quiet after that downright pornographic performance, and he was curious. Was Steve going to snap? Stand up and grab Stark and fuck him seven ways to Sunday right there on the conference table? If that happened he’ll be out of the room faster than if the Hulk was on his heels, but at least the UST was broken and they’ll stop killing other people with their quite annoying, lovesick glances at each other. Clint patted himself on the back, that was a very good future.

And ever the little tease, Tony completely turned to Steve now and lips tilted up in a smirk, adding a very saucy wink, licking the pen directly in front of his face. _Wanna play, Cap?_

Holy fuck. If that wasn’t a blatant invitation for some hours in the sack then Clint didn’t know what was. Surreptitiously the archer averted his eyes to the blond, wanting to know his reaction and promptly choked, resisting the urge to squeak.

Steve looked dangerous. The normally bright blue eyes were so dark they were almost black, and the glint in his eyes could only be described as something feral, intense and completely _dominating_ that Clint felt his knees weaken a bit.  If Captain America looked at him like that Clint would be on his knees in a second to do whatever he wanted, that was the kind of look that promised complete and utter debauchment. But to Clint’s disappointment the look in those eyes completely disappeared, and instead of standing up, much less pulling Tony away to some discreet location so they could screw like bunnies, Steve merely gave Tony a serious look before looking forward again, but this time around he raised his elbow to rest on the table, placing his chin on his knuckles and thumbing his bottom lip thoughtfully.

What did that mean? Clint furrowed his eyebrows in thought. He couldn’t figure it out, did that mean that Steve didn’t buy it? Or was the look he saw in Steve’s eyes a trick of the light? He turned to Tony for some assistance, and found that Stark was _gaping_ , a faint flush on his cheeks, which just kilted him more off-balance. Either way, Clint knew Stark wasn’t going to get away with his show, if he did then he would be in awe of Steve Rogers’ self-control. He was reasonably sure that tonight, Stark was _so_ gonna get it.

And that was a very cheering thought.

Clint blinked when he heard the shuffle of papers and the squeak of the rotating chairs, the meeting was over. Time did fly when you’re entertaining yourself, and he moved his chair just in time to see Steve walk quickly out of the room. Clint grumbled, there went his hopes of never feeling Tony and Steve’s sexual tension again. Next time, he was arriving there first.

“Did you have fun, Barton?”

“Huh?” Tony was still in the room, shuffling his own papers, the blush had receded now and he was back to his swaggering self.  

“Getting off watching your teammates communicate, that’s just sad, even for you, Agent.” Tony tsked at him, smirking. “Our Russian babe not putting out lately?”

“For the last time, Nat and I aren’t that way and she’ll kill you if she heard you saying that. You weren’t exactly giving me a choice, Stark. And besides, you knew I can see you, now who’s the kinky one?” Clint retorted back, standing up and stretching, popping the bones back in place. Tony merely scoffed back, but Clint could still see the remnants of the blush creeping in again. He was suddenly struck by a thought.

“Hey, tell me.” Clint lowered his voice, on the off chance that someone might be listening in. “What did the Cap tell you the last time? I could understand most of everything that happened, but the bit when Steve touched his lip, what did that mean?”  

Tony gave him a look of consideration, thoughtful, and then smirked.

“Fuck you, the moment we get out of here I’ll be pinning you to a wall and have my way with you so fast and so hard you wouldn’t be able to think straight, then push you on a bed and take you until you can’t even walk and stay bedridden for a week.”  

“Wait... _what_?!” Clint yelped, taking several steps back. “Oh hell no, Stark, you’re seriously not my type and I am not interested in doing all those things with you.”

Tony merely gave a laugh and stalked out of there, smirking wider. “And I’m just answering your question, Barton, in detail and paraphrased. Oh yeah, JARVIS, tell the others that I’ll be disappearing for a while, cool? And in under no circumstance should I be disturbed, unless it’s an alien invasion or something life and death that needs my attention.”    

Clint could merely blink and gape when his mind made the connection. He suddenly had the urge to laugh and did, shaking his head as he buried his face in his hands. Those two were certainly a handful.

“Hey JARV...”

“Yes, Mr. Barton?”

“... Can I convince you to leak out the video to me after they’re done?”   

Goodbye forever, UST.


End file.
